When The Fire Dies
by Slavka13748
Summary: Vossler/Ashe. Set after the game, so may be minor spoilers. Last chapter is slightly AU-ish, I guess.
1. Remembrance

_Like it says in the description, Vossler/Ashe, and possibly minor spoilers. Written because there just isn't enough Vossler/Ashe out there, and I just can't like Basch/Ashe. Please read and review, but this is my first fanfiction, so be gentle!_

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As Ashelia B'Nargen Dalmasca, the soon-to-be queen of the tiny desert kingdom, makes her victory speech to her people, something changes. The fire that dwelt within her, the anger, hatred and desire for revenge that had driven her until she struck that final blow, that fire dies, leaving only grief behind. Grief for Rasler, her husband, slain before she could even know him. Grief for Raminas, her father, murdered in cold blood before he could bring about the peace he so desired. Curiously, she grieves most for Vossler, the Knight Captain who had acted as her bodyguard for the past ten years, and who she herself had slain.

Though she could not do so in public, for fear of seeming weak or ill suited to her position, in private Ashe weeps for these three men, though it is the last that dominates her thoughts. As she lies on her bed, dark eyes cast to the ceiling, she remembers.

She remembers how, on her ninth birthday, Vossler has bought her a chocobo doll – the very image of her nine-year-old obsession – despite only having known the young princess for a few short days.

She remembers how, on that same birthday, it was he who had taught her to ride her first chocobo, catching her each time she fell and giving words of encouragement when she needed them most.

She remembers how that, every year, though lacking in grandeur compared to those of her father and the other dignitaries of the palace, Vossler's gifts had always been the very thing she wanted, and the gifts she cherished the most.

She remembers how, in the months leading up to her arranged marriage to Prince Rasler of Nabradia, she had forced her bodyguard to participate in late night sessions of kissing practice in the chocobo stables, for she had deeply feared she would somehow err on the day she was to be wed.

She remembers how, each time she had convinced him to take part (often with threats she would use Basch – Vossler's friend and rival – instead), his ears would colour a deep red, though she suspected this was not solely from embarrassment.

She remembers how, despite her best efforts to the contrary, she found herself enjoying those sessions, though seventeen years of royal upbringing had taught her that she must never even entertain such thoughts.

She remembers the gruff hug he had given her as she temporarily bade him farewell to go meet Rasler in Nabradia, and the strange feeling she had got when she walked out the front doors without him by her side, as he had been for the last eight years.

She remembers how she had begged her father to allow Vossler to visit her during her stay in Nabradia, and how crushed she had been when he, despite being abnormally kind to his only daughter for the most part, has dismissed her request with no more thought than he would that of a child asking for a favourite nanny.

She remembers seeing his familiar face in the crowd as her wedding parade passed through Rabanastre, and her inexplicable outrage (which she had hid with a smile) that her father had not thought to include him amongst his fellow knights.

She remembers how, as soon as she had been able to get free of her father, her new husband and the swarm of nobles clamouring to congratulate her on her new-found match, she had thrown herself at him by means of greeting, and had bade he stay by her to protect her from the somewhat over-enthusiastic gentry.

She remembers how, when Vossler had born the news that her husband Rasler had fallen in battle, not a month since they had been wed, he had simply stood there as she had attacked his armour in a fit of grief, then stayed in silence as she cried her eyes dry.

She remembers how, upon hearing of her father's murder, he had come to her immediately with the news, before helping her escape the palace, cutting down enemy soldiers even as they came.

She remembers that, as they made clear the situation to her Uncle Halim, Vossler had sworn to defend her, regardless of circumstance, and how she had wished she had the power to say the same to him.

She remembers his initial protest against her new choice of attire, but also that he had ceased to complain as soon as she mentioned she liked it, and how he had suddenly thought the bright pink mini-skirt most practical and not at all distracting (thought the reddening of his ears suggested he felt quite the opposite).

She remembers him teaching her to wield a great-sword so that she may aid the Resistance – a desire she had held but never expressed – and how she still wields the heavy blades in the perfect image of her former tutor.

She remembers how, despite the overwhelming anger that had filled as a result of her capture, she still found herself missing Vossler, and how his was the only face she was truly happy to see upon her rescue.

She remembers the feelings of relief that had briefly displaced the rage in her heart as she heard the familiar clanking of his armoured boots coming across the rigs, proving he had not forsaken her for her rash behaviour in Bhujerba.

She remembers how, that night around the camp-fire, he had given his blanket to her (for hers had been destroyed by a particularly ferocious Urutan-Yensa), and how, upon seeing him shiver in the cool desert air, she had moved closer and shared the warm sheet with its former owner.

She remembers how, in both the battles with the Garuda and the Esper Belias, Vossler had taken every hit meant for her, and – though he seemed not to feel it at the time – she had been forced to apply so many bandages he looked like a Rozarrian mummy.

She remembers the conflicting emotions that had flashed through her mind as he had asked that she form an allegiance with Archadia, her kingdom in exchange for the nethicite – a request she deemed worthy of betrayal, treason and execution.

She remembers that, in signing the peace treaty with Emperor Larsa of Archadia, she has formed an allegiance with Archadia; the very deal she had killed Vossler for making.

She remembers the pain and sadness reflected in his eyes as that street urchin Vaan struck the final blow – at the time, all she felt was shock that this was all it had taken to fell the man who had defended her from so many foes, but now all she feels is how all that Vossler had done was to try and do what he thought best for her.

She remembers all this, and rises briefly from her bed. Ashe heads to an old chest in one of her many dressers and pulls out the chocobo doll Vossler had given her all those years ago. She holds the tattered yellow bird close to her chest, collapses back onto her bed, and weeps until she can weep no more.


	2. Reminiscence

_Similar to the last chapter, but from Vossler's viewpoint, and set aboard the SHIVA. There will probably be spoilers, so be warned. I hope people are actually reading this..._

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Captain Vossler Azelas struck a bargain with the Empire, and now he pays the price. Forced to fight against his former comrades, one of them in particular sticks in his mind. He will not not harm her; she knows this, and perhaps fights more fiercely for it. As metal hits metal, bullets pierce armour, and Mist becomes magick, he remembers.

He remembers how, on the first day he had met the Lady Ashe, she had been but a bright-eyed child, so blissfully unaware of the cruel world outside the palace walls. She had charmed him from the start, and, as such, he had thought to buy her a birthday present, though he had known her only a few days.

He remembers the time he had taught her to ride a chocobo, laughing along with her as she began to master the skill, and how she had begged to go out riding with him every day (though, of course, her father did not agree).

He remembers that, as the princess grew older, she would occasionally sneak out of the palace in clothes borrowed from her handmaids, so that she may see the world beyond Rabanastre. She had insisted he ride with her, and he could not resist a direct order. Even if he had wanted to.

He remembers how, in the months leading up to her arranged marriage to the Prince of Nabradia, she had forced him to help her 'refine her kissing skills', for she feared she would somehow make a catastrophic mistake on the day. Vossler did not think this actually possible, but he went along.

He remembers that, though he would protest quite extensively whenever she would ask him to participate, he had actually found himself enjoying the sessions, though he knew he must not. He was a Knight of Dalmasca – nothing could ever come of it.

He remembers his inability to give Ashe anything but a brief hug as she left to visit her future husband in Nabradia, and the emptiness and lack of purpose that had filled him after she had left. His regular duties no longer satisfied him, and his friend Basch had remarked that he was half the knight he once was.

He remembers how he had longer to visit her during her stay in Nabradia, and had even considered asking his commanding officer for permission, before realising this estrangement was probably part of Raminas' plan to wean her off her guardian. Vossler had long sensed the King did not approve of their closeness.

He remembers seeing her, smiling and waving with her new husband, as the wedding parade passed through Rabanastre. Though the King had offered him a place in the parade, he had respectfully declined, as, for a reason he could not quite comprehend, he could not bring himself to participate in the event.

He remembers seeing the now-married princess running down the hallways as if she was being chased, before she had thrown herself at him in greeting. He had first expressed concern over her manner, but was swiftly reassured as she bade him defend from the on-coming mass of noble men and women, all of whom were eager to congratulate the Lady on her fine match.

He remembers how, not a month later, he was the one who had to bear the terrible news of Rasler's death, and how he had wished he could say something to console her as she wailed and beat her fists upon his armour in a fit of grief.

He remembers his wonderment that, after bringing the news that her father had been murdered by his most loyal and trustworthy knight – and one of Vossler's few friends, no less – Ashe had trusted him without hesitation, though she knew full well that she would be the Empire's next target.

He remembers how, as they prepared to go into hiding, he had sworn to protect her regardless of circumstance: he realises that, in his haste to end the war with Archadia, he has forsaken this oath.

He remembers how, upon sorting through the new clothes she had purchased, he had initially thought she had somehow forgotten to buy a skirt or trousers, and had instead picked up two belts. He had attempted to inquire about this apparent mishap without offending her, but had been stunned into silence when she replied that the larger belt was, in fact, a skirt, and she liked it.

He remembers making the decision to train her in the way of the great-sword, knowing that the fiery woman would not want to sit on the sidelines while the men he had gathered fought for her cause. He was loathe to put her in the line of fire, but had also wanted to give her some small happiness in these harsh times.

He remembers how useless he had felt when they were separated after the _IFRIT_'s assault, and how he had searched for hours before finally accepting she was either dead or captured. Though he was not a religious man, he had prayed furiously that night that it was the latter.

He remembers how, upon hearing the Empire held Ashe in its clutches, he had been torn with indecision; his heart begged him to abandon his duties and rescue her immediately, whilst his head reminded him that he held many men's lives in his hands. Though he longed to follow his heart, he knew his first responsibility was to the Resistance.

He remembers resisting the urge to hug her as he found sitting in a cell aboard the _LEVIATHAN_, for fear of misconstruing their relationship to the four people behind him. His relief at finding her alive soon turned to concern, however, as he saw her sway upon standing, though she brushed it off as always.

He remembers his distress at finding her missing in Bhujerba, lost so soon after being reunited. It was at this point he realised the bitter war they had been engaged in for the best part of two years was a war they could not win with force alone, and it was then he had reluctantly forged the best deal he could with the Judges of Archadia.

He remembers, that night around the camp-fire, how she had shared the blanket with him as he stood watch for the others in their party, and how he had considered telling her about the bargain he had struck. He did not, for fear it would ruin the moment, but now he deeply wishes he did.

He remembers how, after their battles with the Garuda and the Esper Belias, she had insisted on bandaging his many wounds, despite his protests that he was fine, and she needn't worry about him. While the rest of the party forged ahead, she had forced him to stay put as she imbued the strips of cloth tied in various places around his body with Regen magicks. Vossler knew her hands lingered longer than was really necessary, but, for once, he did not complain.

He remembers how, as Judge Ghis called his name, Ashe had turned to face him, with such a sense of betrayal that he had desperately wanted to deny any involvement with his former plan, though he had thought he knew he was doing what was best for her.

He remembers all this, and his sword arm slows, giving the blond street rat Vaan a chance to drive his sword through one of the holes the sky pirate Balthier's gun had left in his armour. With that, he falls to the ground, and, though he is convinced he must now be delirious, he swears he sees a flicker of remorse in her face before she turns and strides away.

With only Basch remaining behind, he entrusts the princess' defence to his former friend. Though he knows that he himself is all but finished, and has most likely earned her eternal hatred, he still wants to ensure she gets the freedom she so desires. As Basch turns away, a single tear rolls down Vossler's cheek as he accepts his fate.


	3. Reunion

_I wasn't going to write this, but I couldn't bring myself to leave it on a depressing note. Damn me and my desire for happy endings! Same as the last chapter, but this one is slightly AU-ish, I guess. Depends on whether or not you think there was any way [SPOILER] Vossler could've survived the destruction of the SHIVA [/SPOILER]. The quote at the end is just something I do to all my stories – it's funny how there's always an incredibly apt quote for just abut anything. Again, please read, review and enjoy._

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"Lady Ashelia?" Her page calls warily. The last few months had not been kind to the Dynast-Queen – a number of servants had heard her crying in her chambers (though, of course, they would never say anything of the matter), and the cracks in her public façade were becoming so apparent that even the most ignorant of people were beginning to notice something was terribly amiss with Dalmasca's ruler. The page couldn't be sure how she would react to anything right now. "I have news," he calls again, "May I come in?" When no answer comes, he decides the only course of action is to enter her rooms without permission. This is important news, after all.

Ashe hears the doorknob turn a moment before the door opens. These few seconds give her time to regain her composure and wipe the tears from her eyes, though a distinct redness remains and she still clutches the chocobo doll close to her body.

"Lady Ashelia?" Like any good servant, the page does not question her appearance, but merely continues with his piece. "A pair of chocobo merchants from the Sandsea are with me, along with another man who I am told is an acquaintance of yours. They say they have a rather interesting story to tell you – shall I let them in?"

The Sandsea? Thoughts race through Ashe's disjointed mind. "Let them in," she says, the first words she has spoken outside of a public address for many a month. With this, two men and a woman enter the room, all of them looking decidedly sand-swept and more than a little worse for wear.

She recognises the first man and the woman as the two merchants she and her party had bought supplies from before they had tackled the Tomb of Raithwall. The other man, whose face was obscured with a thick, bushy beard and who walked with a rather heavy limp, is a complete mystery. Still, Ashe swears there's something familiar about him.

The male merchant speaks first, after the woman assures Ashe that this will be as short a story as possible, not wanting to waste the monarch's time. "We were all set to move on from our camp at the tomb. We had hid when we heard the Archadian vessels, but it looks like it was just you they were after, eh?" Clearly, this young man hasn't heard anything of the queen's current state. "Anyway, we were all packed up, mounted and ready, when we heard a great explosion up above. An entire fleet was destroyed, or at least, that's what we heard from travellers from the capital."

"We travel light, so we soon reached the expanse where most of the debris landed. Bodies – well, charred fragments of bodies – everywhere. Awful. Well, imagine our shock when, not only did we find a whole body, but one that was still breathing! We found this fella' floating in the sandwater – guess he must have bailed before his ship exploded and was lucky enough to land in a pool deep enough to break his fall." At this point, the woman takes over, and Ashe tightens her grip on the toy chocobo held at her chest.

" To be honest, we thought he was a goner, but being the charitable sorts we are – and noticing that he wasn't an Imperial, and therefore must have been important to have been on one of their ships – we took him with us. He slowed us down a lot: we had to toss that bloody armour of his or we'd have taken even longer to make it back. It wouldn't have done him any good, anyway; the thing was covered in holes! Looked like someone had taken a gun to it a fair few times."

"Armour or no, it's a good thing we sell supplies, else we'd be stuffed. The Sandseas take a fair few months to cross with such a load, especially if you have to lead a pair of restless chocobos, along with it. He woke up eventually, of course, but, as you can see, he's not exactly in the best of health, even now."

The male merchant interjects before Ashe can say a word; not that she's able to even if given a chance. "He doesn't talk a lot either – won't even tell us his name. He just said to go see Queen Ashe of Dalmasca. So, here we are." He ends on an expectant note, almost as if he's waiting for compensation for his good deed.

Ashe sits down, albeit with none of her usual grace, mulling the merchants' strange tale over in her mind. Finally, she answers, "I would like to have some time alone with this man." She gestures to the bearded stranger and, upon seeing the light in the merchants' eyes dim momentarily, reluctantly adds: "The merchants may go to the treasury, where they will be rewarded with gil equal in value to their deed."

Allowing herself a longer look at the man before her, Ashe gains the confidence to personally confirm her hopeful conclusions. Placing the chocobo doll gently on her bed, she strides towards him, regaining some of the strength that had seemed to drain away over the last few months.

Her old self seemingly restored, Ashe's newly reformed soul is still fragile, and, should her assumptions be proved incorrect, it shall surely shatter once more. Still, she remains bold, and, covering the last few feet between them with long strides, she slaps the man hard across the face. Had he been much smaller, he would have certainly gone sprawling to the floor; as it is, he just takes the hit without moving.

"Don't you ever worry me like that ever again! I thought you were dead! I thought... I thought I'd killed you!"

The reddening of his ears and the perfect mix of both acute bemusement and and repentance in his eyes give him away almost instantly. She remembers how, every time she would berate him (though she only ever did so in jest), his face would become the perfect image of what she sees before her, albeit without the beard.

In a move that is sure to only confuse Vossler further, Ashe throws herself at him in a violent hug, filled with overwhelming relief and – for the first time in many months – joy. She only pulls away when she hears him wince under her grip, and her joy is immediately replaced by concern. She knows Vossler: infamously stoic, and able to take great deals of pain without a word. Something is seriously wrong.

Thinking back to the instruction the viera Fran had given her in the use of of advanced white magicks, Ashe places her hands either side of the wounded man's face. Admittedly, this gesture is not entirely necessary, as the hands merely need to be in contact with the target, but Ashe has her own reasons.

After first casting Faith on herself, for she does not know how the spell will work on such a serious case, Ashe recites the incantation for Renew, the most potent healing magick humes can master. She focuses her mind completely on the flow of energy from her body to Vossler's and prays the spell takes effect.

As the last threads of Mist finish weaving themselves into the magick, she releases his face and hugs him tightly once more. Only when he assures her he is as well as magicks can ever make him does she pull away, and then only to plant a kiss full on his lips. They gaze at each other in blissful silence for a time, before holding each other close again. As they lean in, Vossler mutters something unintelligible, whilst Ashe whispers, very clearly: "Please shave your beard."

"_**Strong people have strong weaknesses."**_

_**Peter Drucker**_


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